When I was all of seven years old
I was recorded,
For a television show
Not, the first spot
I'd done
As, a child
Guess, all of the adults
Thought, I was pretty cute
That day
I had my long, straight hair
Done up in pigtails
The make-up lady
Put purple eyeshadow
On me
And, lipgloss too
I really loved that
I sat, in front of the camera
And, recited, my book report
My librarian had chosen me
To do this show
The entire on-camera time
Was, but, a few minutes
Afterward, my librarian
Took me to Mcdonald's
I remember feeling SO SAD
Because, she asked me
About, my family
I wanted to tell her
SO BADLY
That, my father beat me
On a regular basis
It wasn't just spanking
No, it was actual, beating
I, got all choked-up
And, just stared,
At my food
Forcing myself,
To not look too conspicuous
Fighting, the tears,
And, the lump, in my throat
I decided, not to tell her though
My seven year old rationale
Told me,
That, I didn't know her
Well enough...

Ironic isn't it. for you. Beautifully told. Thanks for writing that poem.

To the seven year old I send love and hugs and understanding. And to the beautiful person you have become more hugs. Keep writing!!! Carose

I just absolutely loved this poem Sue

colombiangirl1,
Sorry it took me so long to post my response, This is wonderful. Reason for taking so long it hit home with me in many ways, that I'm just getting to a point i can start to talk about. Maybe one day I will have the strength to share it. It really made me cry, which is something i don't do easy, even been noted at times to be a ICE QUEEN.